desperately seeking...

it is a well recognized fact that certain professions attract specific personality clusters. the controlling type A's seeking endless gratitude and accolades- also the same individuals who are complete failures in the (lower levels) of the military because they can't stand being told 'what to do'- are usually found sitting at the helm of a 747, or wielding a bloodied laparscope. meanwhile, the field of engineering is replete with childhood victims of playground wedgies, whose only goal as an adult, is to be entirely self-sufficient-- and left alone. or the bleeding heart/co-dependent/self-sacrificing/self-deprecating doormats, eagerly providing the thermal baselayer to the entire social services/mental health profession (with the exception of psychiatrists- refer to previously cited cluster on "pilots" and "surgeons"), and can't stand to be left alone.

sports and athletics are not exempt. the man you see driving a noisy car around (and around) a race track in florida, has something altogether different to prove, than the one wearing a mouthguard, or even a codpiece. on the opposite side of the testosterone coin are the abundance of women who ride (or race) mountain bikes, each exemplifying oodles of unresolved daddy issues. typically, the attention never bestowed from an absent papa, or the recapitulation of an intoxicating, undivided, 'daddy's little princess' relationship, as an adult. it is a no-brainer that the single ladies get into the sport for the male/female ratio (note: this does not work for men and professional cheerleading). less competition and an easy (stand) out, is naturally manifested, whether adopting the 'helpless female waving her bike glove in the air', or the 'i am woman, watch me use this tool, and hear me grunt/fart/belch'. these ladies appear to view anyone else with an x chromosome sharing their trail, as the enemy. and much like any other setting with two or more women, there is an ever present, but unspoken pecking order (usually related to whether it's a S, M, L, or god forbid, XL in your spandex). however, team affiliation appears to be the primary demilitarized zone, as my person, my bike, and my greetings ("hello"), have been routinely ignored by multiple "bella's" wearing full kit. apparently, with the pink jersey's come the prehistoric social skills of neanderthal man. however, while this fair and gentle minority is adamant about keeping up with the guys, they also want you to know that they "ride like a girl", as evidenced by their enthusiasm for t-shirts/coffee mugs/nalgene botttles/bumper stickers emblazoned with this catchy little dictum.

i was 18 years old when i used to tag along with my dad and his friends if they went out riding in the desert. everyone is looking for something, whether it is mr. wonderful, the top of a trail head, or the rear brake cable.